The Town That Smells Like Coconut Shampoo

Harristown was not a normal town.

Every shop on Maple Street had a pair of scissors on the sign. Every lamppost had a flyer that said something like "FREE TRIM TUESDAYS!" and the wind always, always smelled faintly of coconut shampoo.

Jackie hated coconut shampoo.

She walked down the footpath with her long black hair swinging behind her, red streaks catching the afternoon sun, bangs covering half her face. Her skull earrings jangled. Her shark-tooth necklace bounced against her striped shirt.

"This place gives me the creeps," she muttered.

Behind her, Ollie tripped over his own shoelace and crashed into Remi, who knocked into Mike, who bumped Jacob, who stepped on Carson's foot.

"OW!"

"Watch it!"

"That was YOU!"

Their hair — every single one of them — was enormous. Wild. Spectacular. The kind of hair that made pigeons stare.

Jackie smirked. "At least we fit in."

Then she saw the salon.

Scissors in the Breeze

It was not just a salon.

It was THE salon — "Curl Up & Shear," painted in hot pink letters, with a parrot in a cage by the front window. The bird had bright green feathers and a red beak, and it stared at the kids like it was judging every inch of their hair.

"Pretty mess! Pretty mess!" it squawked.

"Did that bird just call us a mess?" Remi said.

Before anyone could answer, the salon door swung open.

Out stepped four girls about their age — aprons on, combs tucked behind their ears, clippers dangling from their belts like they were guarding a fort. The one in front had her arms crossed and a very patient smile. The kind of smile that said: we have been waiting.

"Oh no," Ollie whispered. His face went the color of a boiled beet.

"We've been watching you walk past for twenty minutes," the girl in front said, eyeing the six of them slowly. "You're all going to need a good sit-down."

She held up a clipper.

It clicked on with a very loud BUZZ.